by Amanda Milo
“Some things are born evil. Some things are made to be.” His eyes don’t leave me. When he doesn’t say more, I decide he believes this baby is starting off with a pure, clean slate. He knows the alien species better than I do - if he thinks being from this particular branch doesn’t instantly damn this little life...
I want to believe that.
I want to believe that so badly.
I’ve been so afraid of that.
Rationally, I know that being conceived in evil doesn’t make the product of the act so.
My hands clench, wanting to hold my belly so bad my fingers ache.
His hand finds mine. “My first word was your name.”
I blink hard.
“My dam didn’t know what a ‘Callie’ was - we don’t have a word in our language that matches it. She thought it was nonsense, just a first-word babble, but I wouldn’t stop saying it. When I learned enough words to form sentences, I heckled and harassed her endlessly asking where you were.”
“My mom,” my throat is so tight I can barely say the words, “played every instrument she’d ever learned to play trying to help me find what made the most beautiful music in my head.”
He looks intrigued. “What did?”
That makes me smile. “I already told you. It’s your voice I’ve been dancing to. It's always been you. Only you.”
“You came from worlds and worlds away, Callie. I searched for you my whole life: couldn’t reach you. You came through hell, but you found me. I don’t believe the incredibleness of our story ends here, dream. We will make a good life together. And we will raise this little one right. He will grow up seeing the love we have between us; he will grow up feeling the love we have for him. Won’t he?”
When he moves in for a kiss I grab his horn, and use it to lever myself up enough I can roll to face away from him.
When I look back over my shoulder he looks so confused.
Until I slide my alien-style lycra down my butt.
He helps me pull them the rest of the way off, and he is ever so obliging in ripping open the fastening on his suit. With one big hand, he grips my thigh and uses it to bring my knee forward, adding pressure with his own big knee fitting behind mine.
Feeling his muscled thigh insistently mold itself to the sensitive back of mine makes heat pool between my legs.
The nudge of his cock has me pressing my forehead into the bed in anticipation.
Instead of entering me though, he leans over me, and when I turn my head to look at him, his lips chase mine.
Only when our mouths are pressed together, our eyes momentarily locking, does he connect us everywhere.
He doesn’t hide his devotion for me.
And I don’t hide mine for him.
He's right that we've been making a good life with each other. He reminded me that I'm not alone.
I'm loved, I'm safe, and we'll do this together.
And our story isn't meant to end here.
CHAPTER 40
ZADEON
My kind calls young ‘pups’, or even ‘offspring’.
Humans refer to their young as babies. Baby. I like the word.
(Although I am fond of pup too. My sire still refers to his brood as pups and always will.)
I cup my hand over the rise of Callie’s belly.
Baby sounds as warm, and soft as this feels, and as fragile and special as this smells.
The baby is kicking her so hard I can see it. I try to modulate my voice to a whisper but I’m unable to tell if I’m close. But if I don’t say something I’m afraid it will wake her anyway. “Have a care, little one. Let her rest.”
I tense when I feel her fingers connect with my head. Instead of pushing me away though - she strokes a hand through my quills.
I relax into her and rumble gratitude and praise.
I lift up to see her face when I feel the vibrations of her voice. “I can feel it moving,” she tells me.
She won’t be able to see, but my brows rise above my quill line. “I should imagine so with the way he’s dancing in there.”
Her tone is warm when she replies. “I know you’ve been singing to it when I’m trying to sleep. It settles down when it hears you.”
I say nothing. But this is true; the baby almost always does behave when I ask it to calm down for his dam’s sake.
“You know what it’s doing, right?”
“Besides kicking you?”
She’s smiling now. “Zadeon, every night it gets your attention this way, and doesn’t stop until it hears you. It’s addicted to your voice. Just like me.”
◆◆◆
CALLIE
‘Training’ Club just ended, and Zadeon took me down off my now-customary seating area on top of the shelving unit - or as I like to call it: my throne. If Gracie can have a ‘castle’, I’m renaming all the real estate I want to too.
Now I’m parked on the mats, watching Z do reps.
He’s doing dead lifts with the weight equivalent of a volkswagon.
(I don’t actually know that for sure, but it looks like it.)
Gracie gives a low whistle of appreciation from her place against the wall. “I need one of those!”
I whip my head around in shock.
Only to see Dohrein slam to his feet and plant his hands on either side of her. And then they disappear.
His wings. He engulfed her in his wings.
We hear a squeal, then a masculine purr that quickly turns into a laugh.
A moan.
Angie looks like she’s been struck with rictus; limbs crunching up and her face caught in a grimace. “Ugh, they’re not… right here?”
The purring noise a hob makes can knock a human out.
At the least, it can relax us and make us sleepy.
I don’t know what noise Dohrein is making, but it’s not the normal purr now.
I don’t feel sleepy, Angie doesn’t look it, and whatever is going on under those wings is too noisy to be sleep.
Angie clears her throat. “I guess they don't feel like it's all that different. I mean, since we’re being watched all the damn time anyway, maybe it’s like the location doesn’t matter.”
“It matters,” Arokh says, eyes slitted.
“I know that!” Angie squeaks in response to his intensity.
“Female, I feel like he’s challenging me,” Arokh’s voice is mock-pensive.
She scoffs and laughs. “He’s not challenging you, sheesh.”
“I think he is.”
Angie looks at him incredulously. “Are you serious right now?”
Her answer?
She gets hauled up, and carried off.
She waves goodbye cheerfully, making me laugh. “What a caveman,” I say, looking over to Zadeon.
Zadeon in staring at me.
“What?”
Am I…
Am I feeling nervous? I scoff at the jump in my stomach. “We don’t have to play games. We can just go have sex with no excuses.”
“What If I want games?”
His voice sounds so dangerous.
Definitely feeling a curl in my belly.
Not the baby-moving kind.
“Then... I think I feel like running…” I breathe - making sure he can read my lips.
His mouth is at my ear - I never saw him move, he is just suddenly right here - “That’s good. Because,” he licks the shell of my ear. “I feel like chasing.”
CHAPTER 40
ZADEON
There is a male that belongs to a human named Tara; she is the reason for the retrieval mission to earth.
Her male is trying to send a Comm.
Callie is working out so I hail Gracie over to listen to him in the event that I am unable to hear everything.
“Hopper powder?” I ask incredulously.
I don’t think Callie will like this.
Word of Callie’s pregnancy has reached far and wide - so has word of her disinterest in food.
This male wanted
to share information he hoped would help.
“No, no; I said that’s what we are feeding our Tara, but what she likes is the sweetener.”
“That’s a controlled substance here. Gryfala can become too dependant on sweetener,” I say, not to argue or dissuade him - Creator knows I would happily have Callie eat anything as long as she eats. I say it more to clarify and ensure I’m really hearing him correctly.
Just add sweetener?
He shrugs. “I suspect my human already had an addiction. Whatever the case; it gets her to consume the gruel.”
Gracie is buffing her nails and acting… shifty.
I inhale deeply. “I should be able to offer it to her. It’s worth a try.”
The male hesitates. “Actually, I would like to ask a favor.”
My ears perk up at this. This is an alien with access to a large, fast cargo ship. Favors could be very useful.
“We are out of our sweetener supply. Almost out of the powder too,” he admits, eyes sinking down. “She’s too gracious to complain, but she eats very little now.”
I grimace in sympathy.
Of course, he could travel to Yonara, the next planet over, but…
“We both know, controlled substance or not, the hobs grow the best supply of sweetener in the galaxy.”
Gracie slams into me - and, uncomfortable touching a female that isn’t my own, I stumble back from her. Unconcerned, she takes my place in front of the holo. “And you want the best for your female, don’t you?”
Grimly, he nods.
◆◆◆
I can hardly wait for Callie to finish her set.
When she does, I don’t wait for her to shower.
She laughs as I rush her down the corridor. My eyes catch her lips moving. “What?”
She must assume her word doesn’t translate because she smiles as she says, “Hustle means hurry. What are we hurrying for?”
“I heard of an item that might make food more enjoyable for you.”
She loses a great deal of her enthusiasm. “Really?”
I wrap my tail around her hand, then catch her other one and bring them together and lace them that way. “Yes, now speed up, female. That’s an order.”
I delight in seeing her laugh.
So does the monitoring team. “Excuse us, but Team 3 would like to know more about orders-”
“Tevek off.”
Callie briefly addresses their obtrusive questions though. When she sees me frowning, she mouths, “Dohrein said we should give them something.” Then she adds, “When we can.”
Then she bats the smoke away from her face.
We start off in the kitchen, where I guide Callie to a chair and began to pull ingredients out of cupboards.
“You can cook?” she asks.
We’ve been having all of our meals arrive pre-packaged, so I can see why she is curious now that I appear to be hauling out supplies.
“Enough to survive on, but your food won’t be cooked. Here,” I collect a spoonful of sweetener and hold it out for her. “Try this.”
In all my spans, I have never heard a sound so filthy.
Her moan of satisfaction has me racing to pack up what we need and carrying her back to our den with all haste.
Now she polishes off the spoon and falls back sated, boneless, on the bed.
I can’t stop staring.
My mate has a sweetener addiction. It’s no wonder she hates the food. I think back to all the humans I have seen consuming food with lackluster appetites. I believe all their males are making the same mistake; bland, nutrient-heavy meals are healthy, but not savory or sweet.
Callie drags herself to the side of the bed where she takes ahold of the sweetener jar - and instead of letting it fill her spoon, she turns it end-up, placing the nozzle right into her mouth, eyes closed in bliss.
Creator. I’ve been cutting off an addict.
◆◆◆
CALLIE
Half our bedroom wall is devoted to the liquid sugar bottles.
They’re a little like honey, not a perfect match for anything I knew back home, not exactly, but the important thing is: sweet. I’ve missed sugar.
I need sugar to be happy.
Not really but… well, kind of.
And so...
Zadeon is hoarding them.
He’s hoarding a lot of things. Everything he thinks we’ll need.
And I’m not complaining. Since Dohrein is leaving, I don’t want to run out of something and have no advocate to help us get more.
Crispin is going too. He actually looks excited at the prospect of being able to blend in with a community that doesn’t have wings.
I’m not sure how well he’ll blend, but at least no one will be looking at him weird for not having a pair of wings.
It’s a bittersweet send off; and I blame hormones for how much I cry when I say goodbye to my friends.
“They’ll return,” Zadeon tries to reassure me, his ears pinned back in worry before he hugs me.
“I know.” I use my sleeves to mop up my face.
Then he offers me his sleeves and I use those too.
Not as many of them go as Zadeon was hoping though.
He thought all the females would be leaving.
I was surprised they were letting women go back at all but Zadeon shook his head like, ‘You’re so naive’. “The males will never let their females escape.”
It seems like an awful lot of confidence to me, but then again, we all know the score - good luck getting anyone to believe you. And if they do manage it - good luck with Area 51, or wherever they’ll be locked up. If they think this place isn’t always fun… truth is, no one expects the accommodations for woman-returns-from-alien-abduction to go over well.
Initially, my plan is to ignore the women that remain, and focus on keeping busy.
And I do. I dance.
Maybe it’s simply from boredom, but they start to trickle in to watch.
And then they ask to learn.
Dancing here has given me some peace.
Teaching here has given me some purpose.
That does wonders for my soul.
And when my stomach gets too wieldy for me to feel safe moving like I want to do - Zadeon picks up the training slack.
Alllll the women show up for classes once they find out he's teaching.
“Are you hissing?” Zadeon asks, humor heavily lacing his words.
“I’m going to punch her if she doesn’t stop looking at your back like that. And your crotch - did you see that!”
Zadeon catches my fingers with his tail. I look up to see him smiling down at me. “I don’t care what they look at. I only care about you. And I like that you are so possessive over my back. And my crotch,” he adds, eyes light and happy.
I smile at him - so big that his eyes narrow. “I am possessive. Want me to show you?”
And I squeeze him.
Right there. In front of all of them.
“Are you hissing?” I ask him sweetly.
We’re back in the room before I can do much more than wave a ‘Gracie salute’ (my middle fingers) to the whistling and catcalling women.
◆◆◆
As I lay in Zadeon’s arms, I remember a time not so long ago when touching wasn’t constant.
Now, instead of polite space between us at all times, he’s become an octopus. It doesn’t make me feel suffocated - I feel treasured, and cherished, and safe.
Loved.
And I love him back.
I hug his arm to me tighter, and let the scales scrape at my face as I slowly sweep my cheek back and forth.
He growls and tugs me up onto his chest so that our faces can be touching and therefore achieve maximum scent marking effectiveness, I guess.
I grin down at him. Then I bite my lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you hold me from the beginning.”
In response, I get no recriminations, no bitterness, no anger. Zadeon returns my smile and slowly strokes my back.
I sink on top of him, my stomach not making this comfortable but not so big that it’s impossible, and, putting my face back on top of his, I luxuriate in happy feelings.
This is good.
Life is good.
CHAPTER 41
ZADEON
“This is terrible. I feel like I’ve been pregnant forever. When is this baby going to be ready?”
My mate is miserable. I rub her feet - very, very careful not to tickle - she is prone to snapping at me - and not the enjoyable kind, where she marks me with her teeth.
No, she uses a harsh tone and sharp words.
I avoid provoking that at all lengths.
“When are they going to be here?”
“Any click now,” I say, and hope they arrive soon.
“Look at that little stomach!”
We both turn around to find Angie, arms laden with colorful packages.
“Little?” Callie struggles to her feet, taking my offered arm in order to get vertical - and then she is waddling over to her friend.
Angie holds out a handful of the packages. “For you.”
“I love you so much,” Callie groans - and I’m momentarily stunned.
The desperate, hungry way she delivered that declaration - I’ve only heard it in one other context and it is for me alone.
Or so I assumed.
Angie catches my dumbstruck stupor and she shrugs, and smiles. “Sorry. Chocolate, man. Chocolate.”
Callie snatches several of the bright, shiny wrapped items, and begins tearing them open; moaning, and more groaning, and her hands shake as she takes a bite of the first one.
And she talks with her mouth full. “I luvvf you so muchf ri’ now I could kissf you!”
It’s the addiction talking.
Although I’m not convinced it’s benign, at the same time… if ever there was a possibility of breaking it, all this time without chocolate bean byproducts would have done that, surely.
“Yewf are thuff befft effvah!”
Clearly. It. Didn’t.
So… I’m mated to an addict. I will have to research what is known in Gryfala’s with this condition. I’d ask the humans but since all of them are beginning to fall on the packages as if they are starving, I don’t believe them to be the most reliable sources. It is unlikely that I will get unbiased facts from them regarding their own addiction.